Sometimes It Pours
by HavenKane
Summary: Sometimes life just won't let up. Follow the life of Neville Longbottom, starting in the summer after his fifth year.
1. Welcome Home

I don't own Harry Potter, or just about anything else. I do have pants though.  
  
A/N Re-posted due to technical difficulties. A few errors have been corrected by my wonderful beta Erfa, though nothing too important  
  
Chapter 1 Welcome Home  
  
Neville stepped through the barrier at Platform 9 ¾ and into the muggle train station. He looked for his grandmother. Seeing no immediate sign of her he started to pace about platforms nine and ten. She's late again, Neville thought to himself. As he made his way though the crowd, he waved goodbye to Dean Thomas whose father was helping him put his trunk onto a cart. He caught a glimpse of the Potter/Weasley/Granger party, but decided to avoid it as it seemed to have a few too many members and they were all gathered around a rather purple man. He still hadn't spotted Gran. Where could she be?  
  
The train had pulled into the station over a half-hour ago, and he still hadn't found her. 15 minutes and then I'll take the bus. He sat on his trunk and waited impatiently, watching the people go by and checking his watch every 30 seconds or so. The muggles that passed through the train station were all very interesting to Neville, but as he got more and more frustrated, the small amount of entertainment he got from them was vanishing.  
  
He had left the train nearly an hour ago and was now thoroughly annoyed. He got up from his position on his trunk and grabbed hold of the cart handles. He wheeled it around and walked out of the station. He made his way to a nearby alley so as not to draw unwanted attention when he stuck out his left hand, and a violent purple triple-decker bus appeared out of nowhere. Neville boarded the bus, listening politely to a young man by the name of Stan tell him the various prices. He chose the cheapest way and gave Stan his destination. He then set about the task of digging through his trunk for the money. He came up with the last of his birthday money and handed over all but two knuts. Stan gave his thanks and paused for Neville to supply his name. When he gave it, Stan shot him a funny look, but as Neville had just turned around to take a seat he didn't pursue the topic any further.  
  
There were six people who were getting off before Neville so the trip took a considerable amount of time. By the time the bus reached his home he had fallen asleep in his chair. Neville walked up to the house and stumbled into the entryway. He awkwardly dropped his trunk off to his side.  
  
"Gran!" he shouted, heading up the stairs. "What are you doing home?" shouted a voice to his right. He turned and walked into the living room to find its owner. His grandmother was sitting in her rocking chair doing a crossword. "School let out today," he said calmly. "You were supposed to pick me up at the train station." "No. That's on the calendar for tomorrow," she said simply. "Well then, I'm home a day early I guess," his tone now a bit short. "Don't you get snippy with me!" she said angrily. Not wanting a row right now as he was extremely tired he simply gave her a defeated "I'm sorry," and turned to leave. "At least now we can go tomorrow instead of having to wait," she said to his retreating back.  
  
He didn't even ask what she meant. He didn't have to. They were going to the hospital, where they always go. He started to ascend the stairs to his bedroom when her voice rang out again.  
  
"Don't you dare leave that old trunk laying in my hallway either."  
  
He trudged back down and grabbed his trunk. The trek up stairs was more difficult than it should have been due to his extreme desire to be asleep, and by the end he had dropped the trunk on his foot more than once.  
  
Neville walked into his room shoving his trunk to the side for the moment. He flopped down on his bed, smiling contentedly now that he was back in his sanctuary.  
  
Neville fell asleep quickly, and was woken up earlier than he would have liked on his first day home by his grandmother shouting up the stairs. "Neville!" He opened his bleary eyes, only to be bombarded with light, and shut them tight again. He hid his head beneath the pillow but could still hear her loud and clear. "Get up this instant! You need to make yourself look presentable!" He often wondered if it was a spell so that he couldn't say that he didn't hear her tell him to do something.  
  
"Why? They don't even know its me." he grumbled under his breath. He knew he was exaggerating, but it was six in the morning, and no one could blame him for being a bit disgruntled.  
  
Neville fell out of bed and onto the floor. He got to his feet, tripping on the blanket that had fallen to the floor with him. He sent the blanket a dirty look as though it had done it on purpose and set off for his bathroom.  
  
He would stay in his room all summer if his grandmother would allow it. Of course she wouldn't. He had a fairly large room on the second floor of the house. The house wasn't spectacular by any means, but it was fairly large especially since it was just the two of them. His room was on the other side of the house from Gran's. She slept in the master bedroom downstairs. That was part of the reason that he liked it here, a decent distance form her.  
  
He was showered, dressed, and ready to go well inside of twenty minutes. He was just heading down stairs, when his grandmother's voice filled the hallway once again." Are you even out of bed yet you lazy child?"  
  
Neville shook his head as he walked down the last few steps to face her. "No Gran. I decided to have a bit of a lie in just to annoy you," he was speaking very quietly, but the old woman seemed to hear him just fine.  
  
"I ought to slap that smart mouth of yours right off!" Her eyes always seem about twice as large when she's scolding me, Neville mused. "If your father had ever heard you speak like that." Neville didn't listen to what exactly his father would have done. He had heard it all before. It had something to do with how much respect his father had had for insects or something equally as ludicrous. Instead he went over the contents of the greenhouse shelves in his head.  
  
The lecture ended, and they eventually made their way up to the hospital. Gran stopped every few feet to speak to random members of the staff, who she knew on a first name basis, due to her frequent visits over the last 15 years. Neville followed behind her, smiling whenever he felt that the conversations had turned toward him. It must have been enough because Gran's eyes stayed their normal size until they reached the closed ward.  
  
"Your father is talking to you young man. I think that you need a lesson in respect. This man." the lecture went on, and Neville went a little pink when one of the nurses sent him a sympathetic look. He cursed that reaction, but like his immense lack of coordination, it was something that he just couldn't help. He just got flustered too easy when people notice something like his grandmother's rant.  
  
She eventually got distracted, and her target switched from him to the nurse. Apparently his grandmother was under the belief that the sheets on her son's bed hadn't been changed since she was last here, which was entirely possible considering she had been here only three days ago. He sent the nurse a sympathetic look and she grinned a bit, causing the woman who was scolding her to make a rather harsh comment about her level of intelligence if she thought that the conversation warranted such a giddy look.  
  
Neville slipped away from Gran's overbearing presence, and made his way towards his parents' corner of the ward. He gave a simple greeting and took up a chair next to his mother's bed.  
  
"Hello my beautiful baby," she said in a sweet little voice. A sad smile crossed Neville's face as she greeted the vase sitting next to her bed.  
  
"I had a really interesting school year, Mom." Neville often compared it to talking to a chatty brick wall, but it made him feel better to talk to his parents. He told her all about his fifth year at Hogwarts, while she sat quietly rocking back and forth, staring at him as though she hadn't the faintest idea as to what he was talking about, or quite possibly what he was.  
  
"I can't imagine what it was like for the others. It was weird enough for me, and I could see the thestrials," Neville was deeply immersed in his tale, and didn't notice his grandmother walk up behind him. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he jumped. When he turned around he was met with one of the sharpest looks he had ever seen his grandmother display, which was saying something.  
  
"Just because she can't fully comprehend what you are saying, Neville, it does not give you the right to story to your parents," her voice was very soft, and it looked as though her lips refused to open properly. Her eyes kept darting around as though she was checking to see if anyone had seen her grandson committing this atrocious act.  
  
"I wasn't 'storying' to her!" Neville cried, his disdain for the phrase showing in his voice. "I was telling her about my school year, because she actually listens to me!" Well that's more than I had planed on telling her. Neville steeled himself for the coming onslaught, but it never came. He looked up to find that Gran had gone to talk to the doctor who had just entered the ward.  
  
Neville slumped back into his chair, and held his head in his hands. He ignored the world for a moment, though it was difficult with Lockhart ranting on something in a shrill voice at the other end of the ward. Neville drew his head up when he felt a soft touch against his knee, and looked up into the sparkling eyes of the woman who gave him life. She smiled sweetly and took his hand, leaving in it a wrapper from a piece of Droobles Blowing Gum.  
  
"At least you're on my side," Neville said/sniffed/chuckled. She got up and began drawing on the tiny window with her nose.  
  
"We need to go now," Gran said shortly. Neville got up and said goodbye to his mother who was swaying in rhythm to nonexistent music, and then to his father who writing in his journal.  
  
"Did I spell this right child?"  
  
Neville looked over his father's shoulder at the chicken scratch that filled the page of the leather bound book, "I think so. I have to go home now, Dad. I'll see you later, okay?" He didn't get a response though, as Mr. Longbottom had his nose once again buried deep in the journal, tongue between his teeth in concentration.  
  
Neville followed his grandmother silently back through the hospital, and flewed home. He ascended the stairs, not even bothering to listen in on the flew call that his grandmother was making, which he would have more than likely done if his short day hadn't worn him out so. He fell onto his bed and sighed, fully intent on not moving for the rest of the summer.  
  
A/N My second story! Part of it at least. I have an idea as to where this is going, but it may take a few chapters to get there. I hope you like it. I find myself growing quite fond of reviews. So if you want to be nice to me! 


	2. The Whole Family

I do not own Harry Potter. I still can't figure out how anyone would think that I did.  
  
Chapter 2 The Whole Family  
  
About a week or so into the summer, the Longbottom house was filled with noise, laughter, and the smell of an amazing meal which was currently being prepared, not to mention more family members than any one family should rightfully hold. It happened every year around this time, a family reunion. Everyone of the nearly 40 or so people milling about the house were somehow related to everyone else there, though at various distances, and right in the thick of it was one Mr. Neville Longbottom.  
  
Neville tried his best to make himself blend in with the wall behind him. He was successful for a while, watching his extended family move about his home, talking about the same things they did last year and laughing at the same jokes that were told every year since Neville could remember. Neville's luck, however, ran out, and his hopes of letting this year's reunion pass without him were shattered. He was spotted.  
  
"Neville!" an awkward looking boy with dark blonde hair shouted at him.  
  
"Hello, Eugene," Neville said in a voice that clearly stated that he would have rather not admitted to his younger cousin's existence. Neville was five years Eugene's senior and the kid idolized him, for reasons Neville had never been able to figure out.  
  
"Guess what, Neville!" Eugene commanded excitedly. Neville absolutely despised the way Eugene drew out his name, as though he got stuck on the L and couldn't stop.  
  
"What?" Neville asked flatly.  
  
"No, Neville!" Eugene seemed incapable of maintaining a normal volume in his excitement of talking to Neville. "You have to guess, silly! That's why I said guess what!"  
  
Neville rubbed his left temple at the oncoming headache. "Tiny men from another planet stole your pants while you were asleep last night," he ventured a guess. Apparently sharing a school house and a dormitory with so many Weasleys had brought out his sarcastic side.  
  
"No, Neville!" the younger boy answered. "Could they though? Does that really happen, Neville?"  
  
And they thought I was naive, Neville marveled to himself. "I really don't know, Eugene."  
  
"Guess again, Neville! Come on guess again!" Eugene was rocking on the edge of his chair with excitement.  
  
"I have no idea. Why don't you just go ahead and tell me," Neville prompted.  
  
"Aww!" Eugene whined. "But that's not the way you play the game, Neville!" Eugene's lower lip jutted out, and Neville rolled his eyes, convinced that he was going to have to play this game until his aunt and uncle pried Eugene away so that they could go home. Since they had only just arrived, that would not be for a very long time.  
  
Before Neville got a chance to answer, a tiny little girl with pigtails tied up in bright pink ribbon crawled up in his lap. "Hello, Laney," Neville smiled down at the happy little three year old curled up on his lap.  
  
"Ello, Nevoo," she said softly, smiling sweetly up at him. She laid her head against his chest, and closed her eyes.  
  
"Aren't you going to guess again, Neville?" Eugene asked, completely ignoring the young girl cuddled up to his cousin.  
  
"Not right now, Eugene," Neville answered. "I think we ought to let her sleep. Maybe later."  
  
Eugene gave a huffy sigh. "Fine," he scowled, and then got up and set off to find something else to entertain him.  
  
"Thank you, Laney," Neville whispered to one of the only family members he could stand to be around. The tiny child snuggled closer and made a small cooing noise in response to his words.  
  
Neville reached over to the bookcase next to him, and grabbed the closest book. He arranged Laney and himself into a comfortable position and began to read. It wasn't long though before his seclusion was interrupted yet again, this time by Eugene's father, Neville's great uncle Algie.  
  
"Hello," Neville greeted politely, carefully keeping his voice low so as not to wake the sleeping child in his arms.  
  
His Uncle apparently did not believe that such courtesies were necessary, as he greeted Neville at a much higher decibel. "What are you doing over in the corner child. You think you're too good for us?" The older man snorted in a deep barking laugh that grated on his great nephew's nerves more than fingernails on a blackboard at what he must have considered a joke.  
  
Neville looked back at him and feigned a smile, hoping it didn't look as much like a sneer as it felt. Laney stirred, and Neville rocked slightly and whispered words of comfort in her ear. Her breathing slowed, and Neville smiled at the small triumph of keeping her asleep. He settled back again, and looked around for his book, forgetting that his great uncle was sitting with him, and that he happened to be in the middle of a conversation with the man.  
  
"Not worth the effort, my boy," the man said, once again with a voice of such volume that he could surely have woken the dead, but at the very least the toddler Neville was so desperately trying not to disturb. The meaning of his statement was revealed before Laney fully woke. He snatched her from Neville's arms, and told him that it was time to eat. Laney's eyes filled with tears, as she stared over the shoulder of the man who held her, to the boy whose arms she had been in just moments ago.  
  
"Nevoo," she cried, reaching out her arms trying to get back to her cousin.  
  
"It's okay, Laney," he said softly to the child. "He's going to take you to get some food." He smiled brightly for her, and she was carried off to the other side of the massive table. Neville looked around for an empty chair. Upon finding one, he sat and stared at the place card in front of him. The empty chair had apparently been meant for him as the card had the name Neville Longbottom written across it in his grandmother's curvy handwriting. Am I going to get confused with some other Neville? He wondered. Why is my last name on here? Why are there place cards to begin with? He sighed. Gran always goes overboard.  
  
Neville was pulled out of his thoughts by the loud airy laugh of the boy sitting next to him. Sitting behind the place card with the name Langston Longbottom scrolled across was a boy only a bit older than Neville. They had played together when they were younger, but had never truly become friends. They hadn't spoken much since they told one another which school they had been accepted to. Langston went to Beauxbatons and Neville to Hogwarts. Langston considered Hogwarts an inferior school, and mentioned that fact to his younger cousin often. Neville watched him tuck a lock of his wavy brown hair behind his ear and then continue his conversation with the woman next to him. Neville began to fill his plate, and listened to the babble around him, Langston being the loudest.  
  
"Yes," Langston in a voice that didn't lack for confidence on a nearly comical level. "I believe I scraped in more O.W.L.s than anyone in my class," he bragged. "But of course that is only speculation, as the results are confidential." He turned to his food, and caught a glimpse of Neville. "How did you do on your O.W.L.s, Neville?" he sneered.  
  
"I won't know for a couple of weeks," Neville answered, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. Alas, it was not meant to be, as Langston continued to speak.  
  
"I received my results just this morning," Langston replied as though he personally should be praised for how quickly the results came out. Neville didn't reply, but began nibbling on a roll instead.  
  
"I suppose it's all in the way that the school is run. Ours is always ever so organized. It's no wonder my results came quicker than yours," he smiled at Neville in a very 'Na-Nee-Na-Nee-Boo-Boo' sort of way, and Neville was immediately bombarded with the mental image of himself jabbing his butter knife into the other boy's eye. Neville shook his head, and turned away from Langston on the pretense of grabbing another roll.  
  
In the seat to Neville's left sat Eugene, and upon noticing this Neville immediately began banging his head on the table beside his plate. Why, oh, why does Gran do this to me? Neville screamed in his own mind. Unfortunately, Neville's fit drew the attention of the whole table. Eugene looked terrified and asked repeatedly if Neville was okay. Langston backed as far from Neville's seat as possible, as though afraid it was contagious. There was a tiny cry of "Nevoo" from across the table, and he looked up at the little girl's fear filled face. When she saw that he was in fact okay she smiled brightly at him. Neville marveled at the innocence in that expression until he heard another comment from one of the many family members startled by his outburst.  
  
"Does insanity run in your side of the family, Evelyn?" Enid Longbottom asked of Neville's grandmother. Which earned her a slap across the face from the older woman. "How dare you!" Enid shrieked, but Evelyn Longbottom stood her ground. "I was just asking." Enid started, but was cut short by the wand tip hovering less than an inch from the bridge of her nose.  
  
"Enid, Algie, I think it would be best if you collect Eugene and your things, and leave my house immediately," her voice and wand were rock steady as she spoke. The two who had been addressed quickly got up and went after their things, while Eugene sat and complained that now Neville wouldn't have time to guess his secret. Soon, though, he was ushered from the table and towards the front door.  
  
"Bye, Neville!" the boy called over his shoulder. "See you soon!" Merlin, I hope not, Neville said, though he was fairly sure it was not out loud.  
  
He jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Gran looked down at him, her face completely unreadable. "Go upstairs and lay down, Neville," she said quietly. Afraid to incur the wrath of the woman standing above him, and because he didn't really want to be there in the first place, he hastened to comply.  
  
Neville entered his room and flopped down on his bed. I truly hate family reunions. Something always goes wrong, and I am usually the one to blame, or at least the one who gets blamed. Neville lay there for a while thinking, and listening to the babble downstairs. He wished he could have said goodbye to Laney. He had a feeling she was going to grow up to hate these things as much as he did. At least I don't have to be part of the rest of this one, he thought.  
  
He dozed a bit between thoughts, ignoring the softening noise from downstairs. He was nearly asleep when his bedroom door burst open, leaving his grandmother standing in its empty frame. He sat up straight at the noise, and then cowered back at the anger radiating off of the infuriated witch.  
  
A/N I wrote this. I'm tired now. Please review. I'm getting rather discouraged. Thanks to Erfa, my wonderful beta, and to the four of you who actually made it through the last chapter to spite it's rather hideous state, now review this one. Goodnight. 


	3. Stuck

I do not own Harry Potter. The nice lady who is going to give us the real book six does.  
  
Chapter 3 Stuck  
  
Neville's grandmother stayed in his room for the rest of the day, the lecture never ceasing. In the end he was grounded for the rest of the summer for embarrassing her in front of the entire family, and was no longer going to be allowed off of their property. It wasn't all that bad of a punishment if he thought about it. It wasn't as if he actually went anywhere during the summer, except of course for St. Mungo's, which she had made an exception for.  
  
By the time she left his room, it was nearing midnight. He stared at the dark wood paneling that made up his ceiling He couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He just wasn't tired. Lying still didn't seem to be an option either as he had been tossing and turning for the past hour. He finally gave up.  
  
He looked over at his beside table. His Mimbulus mimbletonia was in desperate need of repotting. So Neville got out of bed, put on a robe from the basket of clean clothes that he had yet to put away, and made his way downstairs carrying Trevor and the small gray pulsating plant. He went through the kitchen, and out the back door, making his way past the vegetable patch to the small greenhouse nestled in the back corner of the property.  
  
Neville entered and sighed. "Gran never comes out here while I'm away. Does she?" he asked. One of the large faded purple flowers hanging from the ceiling shivered in response, and Neville stroked one of it's drooping leaves to calm it. He walked over to a shelf on the east wall, and grabbed a pair of dragon hide gloves. He pulled them on, looking around to see which supplies he was running low on, making a mental grocery list until he remembered that he wasn't going to be allowed to go get the things that he needed. He sagged his shoulders and looked around at the plants whose care he had taken on. I'll just have to deal with what I have for now. It looks like I have enough dragon dung for most of the repotting, and I have some Mooncalf dung, but I'm running low, so I'll have to watch how much I use.  
  
Neville spent the night out in his greenhouse, replanting, pruning, referring every now and then to the Herbology texts he had with him, and cleaning up the mess that had accumulated since he had left for school. By morning he had everything settled in its place, and had even gotten rid of a potentially dangerous bundimun infestation that had been there for a while considering the size of the whole it left in his shelf. He was covered in earth and compost but very happy with the progress he had made as he walked back through the vegetable patch toward the house. It was nearly six when he stepped through the back door and into the kitchen where he found his grandmother sitting, sipping tea through pursed lips.  
  
"Morning," Neville said a bit nervously, heading upstairs to have a quick shower. His plans, however, changed with one word from Gran.  
  
"Sit," she said, looking him strait in the eye. He sat, but made no move to further the conversation.  
  
"Where have you been all night?" she asked in a surprisingly calm voice.  
  
"I was just..." Neville began to explain, pointing out the back door, but was not allowed to finish.  
  
"What did I tell you just last night?" she asked, her voice slowly becoming louder, and scaring off Trevor. "What did I say was your punishment for what you did to me yesterday?"  
  
"But I was just..." Neville tried again.  
  
"What am I supposed to do with you Neville? I know that if your father were here..." this time Gran was the one who didn't get to finish her thought.  
  
"Well, he's not!" Neville cried out in anger, jumping up from his chair. "He's not here. He's sitting in a hospital bed discussing politics with an armchair, and you're stuck with me. I'm sorry. It's not what I would have chosen either, but we are stuck." He sat silent for a beat and then continued in a much softer tone, "Never mind, we're not," and then rose from the table, made his way through the house, and walked out the front door. "Brilliant," Neville told himself aloud. "That was just brilliant. Now where am I going to go," he sighed, and decided that he ought to be moving, even if he didn't know where he was going to go. At the very least, he wanted to avoid Gran.  
  
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes and was about to set off when he realized that one of the pockets that he was using to keep his hands from fidgeting was full of things that he didn't remember putting there. Though, that doesn't imply anything as mysterious as one would think, as Neville forgets where things are on a regular basis. He took the handful of objects out of his pocket for examination. Among them he found the five Galleons which Gran's brother, Frank, who his father was named after, had given him when he had arrived at the reunion for getting such amazing O.W.L. scores. Neville had argued that he had not received his results yet, but as the man is deaf, it didn't do much good. He also found the two Knuts left over from last year's birthday money and a wrapper from a piece of Droobles Blowing Gum. He didn't know how all of these items ended up in the same robes, as he was fairly sure that he had been wearing different robes on the separate occasions on which he found himself in possession of these things. Nevertheless, he found them helpful in his search for what to do now.  
  
He set off on foot and began to make his way east along the winding road that lead toward town. Neville knew that he wasn't exactly in peak physical condition, having avoided sports and such for most of his life due to the fact that he would always mess it up in some way like forgetting a rule, or dropping the ball. He much preferred to watch others play, cheering for his house team, people at random, and even the referee or the ball if he didn't like the teams. He actually found it quite fun to cheer for the snitch. This lack of involvement allowed for only a small amount of strength and stamina in the boy, which could have made his trek a bit more difficult than it should have been, but Neville was in no rush.  
  
He walked at a slow pace, stopping often and for various reasons, whether distracted by the foliage (He even found a patch of dittany which he took piece of for his greenhouse), stopping to admire some interesting something in the distance, or if he had simply tired of walking. He loved the freedom he felt when he was not under anyone's supervision. He had always had either Gran or the teachers at school looking out for him, and with no one around to judge what he was doing he felt so free. He reached the small town around midday, and was careful to walk along the southern road, and not the one that goes strait through the center of town, where people were jostling about, busying themselves with the chores of the day. He made it past the town without any of the muggles noticing him in his funny robes, which he wore over his pajamas.  
  
When he was just a few minutes outside of town, he caught sight of his destination. A huge manor sitting on the crest of a hill was just visible off in the distance. Neville felt rather triumphant, even though he knew he had a ways to go. He had expected himself to get lost along the way, but with his goal in sight he was feeling rather confident.  
  
Most of Neville's afternoon was spent walking, and he was beginning to realize that he was quite hungry. The rush of freedom was beginning to wear off. He hadn't eaten much at dinner yesterday, and Gran wouldn't let him in the kitchen while she was cooking for lunch. He tried to put it out of his mind, saying he would eat when he got where he was going. It was nearing five when Neville found himself at the bottom of the hill on which the stately manor resided. Another half-hour and he was at the door, drenched in sweat as the evening had brought with it heat that the noonday sun could not rival.  
  
Neville pushed the door open and stepped inside. He walked through the entryway, his shoes thumping against the marble of the floor quite loudly, but he didn't care. He stuck his head around the corner to see if anyone was in the next room. Finding it empty, he made his was over to the mantle, only to find that there was no fire in the grate. He hadn't thought of that. There were logs, but no fire. He slumped down on the floor and sighed. I knew something was going to go wrong with this, Neville thought as he stared into the empty grate.  
  
It had been the perfect plan. Walk over to Great Uncle Frank's house. Grab a handful of Floo powder, and Floo to London. As Frank Longbottom hated the downstairs of his home because it was too drafty, lived alone, and as he couldn't hear it even if Neville had blow up the place, it was all going to work out perfectly. He just hadn't thought about the fire. Neville couldn't use magic to start one, and he had no idea how to start a fire the muggle way. He vaguely remembered something about having to match something, but what he was supposed to match he didn't know.  
  
He decided that he would go check the other rooms, but he was sure that it would be pointless. He was right, to a certain extent, there were no fires going in the downstairs portions of the house. He did, however, find a stash of Floo powder, and grabbed an apple from the kitchen. He began to pace around the living room that he had started out in. It was no use, with out a fire, his whole plan would just have to be scrapped.  
  
He devoured the apple he had taken, and threw it in a nearby bin. He shoved his hands in his pockets and continued pacing, desperate to think of a new plan. He thought about checking upstairs for a fire, but that was far too risky. He really didn't want to get caught. He ran his thumb over the gum wrapper in his pocket, a habit he had as he usually had one in his pocket. Some of them in his shoe box, where he keeps all of the 'presents' his mother gives him, were so worn you couldn't tell what they said. As he did so, he felt something soft against his knuckles. Brows furrowed in confusion, Neville with drew the something from his pocket. The dittany, Neville thought. Why didn't I think of that before?  
  
Neville stepped out the back door and placed the plant on the ground before him. Then he waited. He knew that things took their own time, and was usually very patient when working with his plants, but he was very fidgety this time. He was afraid that the sun would set before he was finished. A few moments later what looked like steam began to rise from the blossoms laid out before him and Neville was suddenly still. He was counting the seconds until the sun would finally work its magic, careful to stay back as the smell of mint was nearly burning his nose. After dittany is cut away from its roots it is rather unstable. Exposure to a great amount of heat causes it to release extremely flammable and magical vapors. If those vapors meet enough heat it can. The blossoms burst into flame. It wasn't a big fire, but Neville hoped it would do.  
  
He picked up the plant by the stem, and carried it into the house. He carefully kept his eyes on the fire, for fear it would disappear if he didn't watch it close. He stumbled on the threshold, but the flame burned on. He had made it all the way into the living room, when the fire flickered, and nearly died. I guess it is drafty down here after all. I always thought he was just crazy. A small flame still licked at the other end of the stem, but Neville was nearly sure it wouldn't be enough. He set it atop the logs and turned to grab a handful of the shimmering powder, listening to the evening wind blow in the trees outside now that the sun had set. He turned back to the fireplace to find a large fire happily crackling as if it had been going for hours. Completely confused, but happy nonetheless, Neville took a quick look around, threw the powder into the fire, stepped in, and shouted "Diagon Alley!"  
  
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Frank Longbottom had been woken by his perimeter ward. He had come downstairs to answer the door, only to find that Evelyn's grandson had already let himself in. The boy was peaking into the next room when Frank found him. He was acting extremely suspicious, and Frank was curious as to what he could be up to, so he let him be. He watched as the teen stole his Floo powder from his office and an apple from the kitchen. He was about to interrupt his nephew's pacing when Neville pulled something from his pocket and headed out the back door. He placed the something, which turned out to be a flower, on the ground, and Frank was quite sure that the child had lost his mind. He was once again about to interrupt when the flower on the ground caught fire. Frank was mildly impressed and stepped into the shadowed kitchen as Neville came by. He watched the boy stumble, and watched as the fire was nearly blown out. The now only slightly burning stem was placed in the fire. Frank knew it wouldn't be enough, but was impressed with the boy's resourcefulness. He muttered a spell to light a roaring fire, and ducked back into the shadow. No wonder Evelyn's so hard on the boy, Frank mused. He's just like his parents.  
  
A/N I think that this is my longest chapter yet. Hopefully it's a trend. I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, Erfa for taking time out of a grueling schedule to beta for me, and Luci who helped me get Neville 'un- stuck' from a point about halfway through this chapter, where he stayed for several days. Now review, pretty please. 


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